


To Strike a Familiar Chord

by NYCScribbler



Category: Free Bards - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Gen, Music, nonhuman cultures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 15:46:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17046422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NYCScribbler/pseuds/NYCScribbler
Summary: Nightingale, her songs, and her listeners.





	To Strike a Familiar Chord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ghostinthehouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/gifts).



Nightingale was tuning her harp in the Oak Grove when she heard a set of footsteps, resonant but hesitant. She looked up and recognized the young Mintak boy who had led her into Freehold on her first night. "Hello. Kovey, isn't it?" she said, pitching her voice a little lower than was her wont and accompanying the words with a friendly, if closed-mouthed, smile.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

"There's no need to be as formal as that. We're all-" and here she essayed the lowing half-whinny that she had heard Mintak use to mean _herd_ , _family_ , and _fellow-travelers_ all at once.

His brows rose and his eyes widened. "I didn't know humans could speak Mintak!" he exclaimed.

"Not well," she admitted. "I only picked up a few words here and there, and can get my tongue around fewer." Which, she considered, she could say about at least half a dozen other nonhuman languages, and was often more than any human even bothered to try.

He sat down in front of her, tailor-style, though his long legs bent in different places from a human's. "I can ask for a song?" he said hopefully.

Nightingale considered his request. It was early enough in the day- the late afternoon lull between the lunch and dinner crowds- that the boy could likely be spared from his work, but if she let him linger too long, she'd be as likely to hear sharp words from Kyren as he was. As early in her stay as it was, she didn't dare risk ending up on the manager's wrong side. But his eyes were wide and pleading, and he trembled ever so slightly under her steady regard. "One song," she said.

He gave her a shy smile. "Do you know 'Lie in the Clover'?"

She had to translate the title back to Minbak before she recognized it, and even then she hesitated. "I can only sing the second mother's part. Is that all right?"

"Yes," he said, and closed his eyes to listen.

So she sang the soothing-song- not quite a lullaby, but a song Mintak herd-mothers used to calm their children in times of trouble- as best as she could, using the harp to fill in the first mother's part. If Kovey objected, he showed no signs of it, and when she was done, he said, "Thank you- it's been so long since I- the mothers haven't sung it since we left-" and he stopped short and took off for the stables.

She wondered about that briefly- but only briefly, since her shift was due to start and she had to plan what she was going to start the night with. _Family songs tonight, I think. Let them see that this is something all people value, not just humans,_ she decided, with Kovey's request on her mind. There were a few Felid songs that would suit, easy on her hands and easy on the listener's ear.

 

She hadn't thought the change of the seasons would affect Freehold's business- Deliambren machinery that seemed to the untrained eye just this side of magic kept the cavernous building warm in the winter and cool in the summer- but people would have to step out into the implacable heat of Lyonarie's summer in the first place to enjoy Freehold's comforts, and it seemed quite a few were disinclined to do so. This had been an unusually bad day; her Tanager garb had been soaked clear through with sweat by the time she returned, and she had lingered long in the bathing cubicle to wash the city's stink off of her.

All in all, it was a quiet night, which put her in a state of mixed emotions she had not truly expected. _On the one hand, there's something to be said for a moment's peace in this all this. On the other... well, there's also something to be said for having listeners for one's music!_

Between numbers, while she stretched her fingers and listened for any requests, she happened to look up. There, on the catwalk by the upper levels- _surely that's not Tyladen, out of his office and doing work for a change!_ she thought, and then considered the uncharitable nature of the thought.

But she had seen no other Deliambrens at Freehold except as one-night visitors, and only a Deliambren would have any concept of how to work most of the technology that made Freehold such a marvel. She hadn't thought of it before, but Tyladen would have to be in charge of the various devices, wouldn't he? Her regard for him went up ever so slightly.

She bent her head back to the harp and continued her set, weaving in tunes from various human kingdoms with requests from her audience. Truly, it surprised her just how much styles varied from human kingdom to human kingdom, and yet how all of them were recognizably human when put next to Mintak or Haspur music, and how all of _them_ had similarities at the heart when she compared them to elven music. _As if that hasn't been the message I've been trying to get across here,_ she thought.

The next time she looked up, Tyladen was still there, and not even pretending to work on whatever overly complicated mechanisms were up top. There was something about him that she almost didn't recognize because it was so out of place on the Deliambren- really, on any Deliambren: open yearning and loneliness.

 _He's young to be out here, away from an enclave, isn't he? Possibly even his first- oh, what's the word Old Owl used?_ Rumsprig? _And Deliambren enclaves get a lot of visitors, but this would be his first time surrounded by so many non-Deliambren people, if that's the case._

With that thought, she finished the song she was singing, then switched on the fly to "The Two Towers and the Moon" and had the pleasure of seeing Tyladen's eyes widen with pleased surprise as she went into the first reprise of the theme. From there, it was easy, almost too easy, to swing into "The Sandy Shore" and "Upward", one song leading into the next in the Deliambren way.

She dared not proceed further along that path, though; knowledge of too much Deliambren music might cause even Tyladen to figure out that there were questions he should ask her, ones that she had no intention of answering. She moved on to a piece from the far eastern kingdoms, full of notes that were discordant to her ear, and did not look up as he moved away.

 

Another time, as the night wound down and the shifts changed, found a new patron approaching her chosen spot. She looked up at him in surprise, for she had never seen one of his people before. He walked on the balls of his feet, or at least what would have been the balls of his feet on a human, and moved as silently as a ghost. His skin was curiously metallic, and gleamed different shades of gold in the flashing, shifting lights of the Rainbow, as did his eyes. Despite herself, Nightingale was fascinated. She had seen many nonhumans before in her travels, but never one like this. He reminded her somewhat of Xarax, but more and less human-like at the same time; in some ways, he looked like a statue come to life.

He stared at her, long enough that most humans and about half of the nonhumans she had dealt with in the past would consider it rude at best and a direct challenge at worst. Nightingale stared back at him just as calmly and patiently; her instincts told her that he would make the first move. And he did, saying, "Lyrebird. You play many kinds of music."

"I do," she acknowledged, but no more than that.

"You know-" and here he made a series of short, sharp, clacking noises that sounded like no language she had ever heard- not the rough language of the Lycana, nor the complex tones of Deliambren, nor the smooth silken sounds of the elven tongue.

She had to shake her head, letting the tendrils of her hair sweep across her face. "I'm sorry," she said.

He tilted his head to look at her. "Yes. You mean it. Many do not. You see what is inside the skin. Many do not. Come to the Golden Carp when you are free if you wish to learn Larad music. You may ask for Chian."

With that, he turned away and crossed the dance floor to the exit, moving sinuously through the crowd in a way she could almost envy; the grace of it was like a Gypsy dance.

 _I could always use some new music,_ she thought, and put the thought on the shelf with her worries and concerns, as yet another thing she didn't have the time to consider properly. She didn't dare be seen as Lyrebird outside the walls of Freehold, nor as Tanager in the company of any of its clientele. _Hah. Had I known I'd spend so much time juggling, I'd have learned it as a girl!_

She promised herself that she would find Chian again, and learn the music of the Larad, and add another piece to the puzzle that was Alanda.


End file.
